


Sherlollipops - Not Fooling Anyone

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly try to keep their relationship a secret, but Mary and Sally are more observant than they think! Pure fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Not Fooling Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> From tumblr
> 
> mayacakaia asked you: I got in the sixth place...I counted. Thank you for the giveaway. My prompt is Sherlock and Molly have decided to keep their relationship a secret, thinking nobody knows. Reality is the mutual attraction is so strong that even a blind man can see how hard they are fighting against their desires. Have fun writing!
> 
> Prompt has been tweaked a bit because frankly I like it when the guys are clueless and the women all know what’s going on! Enjoy!

“Do they really think they’re fooling us?”

John flashed his wife a questioning glance as they headed down the stairs from Sherlock’s flat to reclaim their six-month-old daughter from Mrs. Hudson, who had been entertaining her for the last half-hour of the family’s visit. Molly had appeared with her arms full of hazardous materials containers, and the new parents were a bit leery of their daughter being around anything of the sort. “It’s for an experiment,” Molly had chirped apologetically, then busied herself in the kitchen while John brought Lucy down to visit her honorary granny.

“Do we think who is fooling us?” he asked, but before Mary could do more than raise an eyebrow at him, Mrs. Hudson’s door was open and their giggling daughter was attempting to launch herself out of the landlady’s arms and into Mary’s. Both parents promptly forgot the topic as Mrs. Hudson proudly explained that Lucy had not only finished her bottle but had also taken a few spoonsful of porridge, leading to a detailed debate of the merits of solid food on helping a baby sleep better.

Mary, however, took up the thread of conversation once they were back home and Lucy was settled in her cot, sleeping peacefully. “You never did answer me,” she reminded John as he handed her a cup of tea. “Ta, love,” she added, taking a sip and leaning back in her chair.

John sat on the sofa, brow wrinkling as he tried to figure out what his wife was talking about. “About what?” he finally asked, utterly perplexed, since he couldn’t recall her asking him anything to which he hadn’t responded.

“I asked if you thought they were really fooling us, with all that nonsense about deductions and experiments,” Mary explained. Well, sort of explained, since John still had no idea what she was going on about. “Sherlock and Molly?” she added, seeing his blank stare and properly interpreting it. She wrinkled her nose. “They’re so cute, aren’t they?”

“Um, sure, yeah, cute,” John said, but before he could ask his wife to explain – for real this time, not just offering some sort of half-code thing he was supposed to be able to decode – an almighty crying came from Lucy’s room, signaling the end to what was supposed to be a peaceful evening as the poor little thing fell victim to a bout of colic that was fated to last for the next month.

oOo

“It’s a bit sickening, isn’t it?”

Lestrade gave Sally Donovan a puzzled glance. “What, the dead body? They all are, it’s sort of right there in the description, ‘dead body’, not exactly something you want lying about your flat…”

The police sergeant huffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so thick, Greg. Not the body, them.” She jerked her head at Sherlock and Molly, who were leaning down over said dead body, examining the wounds the killer had left in the torso. 

Lestrade gave them just as puzzled a look as he’d given Sally, then shrugged. “What, the two of them getting on so well? It was bound to happen.” He chuckled. “Either they were going to actually become friends or Molly was going to turn around and stab him with a scalpel one day…”

His voice trailed off as he saw the expression on Sally’s face – sheer, unadulterated disgust. “Really?” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s what you think is happening here, that they’ve become ‘friends’?” She raised her fingers and made the classic ‘air quotes’ symbol before dropping her hands back to her sides. She shook her head and rolled her eyes again. “Honestly, Greg, wake up and smell the coffee. Better yet, tell her to do it,” she added, once again jerking her head at the oblivious couple on the opposite end of the room. “Before he wrecks her.”

Then she turned and left, muttering something about needing a coffee herself now, leaving a very annoyed – and still puzzled – Lestrade to wait for the results of the autopsy.

After the killer had been identified (“It’s the sister, look for a gardening tool called a ‘weasel’ most likely buried in her rubbish tip or compost heap”), he took Sherlock aside in the hall while Molly finished with the body. “Listen, Sally thinks you’re using Molly for something,” he said quietly. “Thinks she needs to wake up and smell the coffee. You actually are friends with her now, right? Not faking it or anything?” The specter of Janine the Bridesmaid rose up in his mind as he asked the question, although he doubted Sherlock would do anything like that to the woman who helped him fake his death three years ago.

Sherlock looked affronted. “Molly is one of my very few friends, Gareth,” he snapped. “I don’t need to fake anything with her. For God’s sake, the woman helped save my life, or don’t you remember that? And do give Sgt. Donovan my regards,” he added snippily, “since it was largely her fault that my life was in danger in the first place.” Then he turned and barged back into the morgue, calling loudly for Molly as he did so.

Lestrade just shook his head and headed down the hall, punching in a text message on his mobile as he did so. Molly was a grown woman, as she’d (rightly) pointed out to him on more than one occasion, and he should know better by now than to let Sally put a bug in his ear about Sherlock. Just because he’d been vindicated, didn’t mean she liked him any better than she had before he ‘died’.

oOo

“Donovan suspects something.” “I think Mary is onto us.”

Sherlock and Molly both spoke at the same time. Molly clapped a hand over her mouth – she’d removed the unsanitary latex gloves, at least – then nodded for Sherlock to continue. “Lestrade just cautioned me that the good sergeant thinks I’m using you,” he said with a curled lip as he helped Molly wheel the body back to its shelf. He watched as she closed the door and set about tidying up. “What makes you think Mary knows anything?”

Molly shrugged as she shut the autoclave and set the timer. “She gave me this look the last time she and John were over – when I brought the body parts last week? – and kind of smirked at me when I said we were doing an experiment together, like she thought it was code for, um, something else.” She blushed lightly, and Sherlock raised a hand to cradle her cheek.

“Well,” he murmured, “at it turned out that evening, it was, wasn’t it?” He leaned down and kissed her, a lingering kiss that was well on its way to becoming a bit too heated for the workplace. 

Molly pulled away with a giggle. “Well, yes, that night, I suppose it did, but it wasn’t meant to be…we were supposed to be studying the effects of decomp on body parts that had also been subjected to freezer burn, as I recall!”

He grinned at her and leaned back against the counter. “And as I recall, Miss Hooper,” he drawled, “you wore a skirt and a lab coat. You know how I feel about seeing you in a lab coat over a skirt,” he purred, reaching out to pull her closer. “Especially a short skirt…”

She allowed him to kiss her again, cheeks even pinker as she reluctantly pulled away. “Well, we should try to be a bit more discreet, if we want to keep this between us for much longer, that’s all,” she said.

Sherlock waved dismissively. “All they do is suspect at the moment. John and Lestrade, on the other hand, are completely clueless, and if they insist nothing’s going on, Mary and Donovan will be forced to back off. I’m not ready to face the idiotic commentary our friends and associates will have about our love life, Molly, not just yet.” He grimaced. “Can you imagine how Anderson would react?” He and Molly had seen the blog site Sherlock’s former detractor and now biggest fan had set up, featuring his continuing theories as to how the consulting detective had faked his death (not being satisfied that Sherlock had told him the truth, which for once he had) – and speculating on his relationship with Molly.

They both shuddered at the thought before Sherlock returned his attention to her. Molly felt a delicious thrill down her spine at the heat in his gaze as he added, “Besides, I’m not ready to share you with anyone else just yet, either.” He leaned in for another kiss, but Molly shook her head and (very, very reluctantly) placed her hand on his chest, stopping him. If she let him kiss her one more time, she would throw caution entirely to the wind and let him bend her over one of the stainless steel tables, as he’d so often threatened (promised) to do to her.

“But if Mary and Sally are suspicious,” she objected, deliberately returning to the subject at hand and doing her best to ignore his ‘wounded puppy’ pout, “won’t the others figure it out that much sooner?”

Sherlock shook his head, tacitly ceding to her desire to stay on point. “Unlikely. John is well aware of my previously stated stance on relationships; he knows I’m married to my work and he might have heard me say something along the lines of sentiment being a chemical defect found on the losing side. As far as everyone is concerned, you and I are just friends, and that’s the way it will stand until we decide to let them in on the truth.” He smiled winningly. “And we both know how good you are at keeping secrets, Molly. Trust me, those two may suspect, but they’ll never be able to prove anything, or convince anyone else that there’s something more between us.”

Then he swept her back into his arms and kissed her soundly, neither of them noticing the stealthy opening of the door…or the flash of light from a mobile camera phone aimed right at the pair of them.

**The Next Day**

Sally Donovan slapped a newspaper down on Lestrade’s desk, grimacing as she did so. “Should’ve made a bloody bet,” she growled.

oOo

Mary waved a newspaper under John’s nose, grinning delightedly the entire time. “Should’ve made a bet,” she crowed.

oOo

Sherlock grunted as Mrs. Hudson ‘Hoo-hooed’ from the door to his flat. “Papers for you, dear!” she trilled, dropping a stack of them on the coffee table sat in front of his current resting place, the sofa. He grunted again and curled up in his dressing gown. Molly was safely tucked away in his bedroom, with the door still tightly shut, no chance of Mrs. Hudson seeing anything she shoul…

“Oh, Sherlock, why didn’t you tell me?” his landlady asked in a scolding voice. “Keeping it a secret, that’s not very nice! Poor Molly, making her hide things – and don’t tell me it wasn’t all you, I know what you’re like, you naughty man!”

Those words caught his attention and brought him upright in a hurry. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Mrs. Hudson suspected that he and Molly were…

His horrified gaze lit on the headline glaring up at him while his landlady beamed down at him. He snatched up the paper, eyes bulging as he read the words emblazoned in bold black print: “Back-From-The-Dead Detective Comes Alive In Mystery Morgue Worker’s Arms.”

He glanced around wildly, as if suspecting more photographers of hiding in his flat, then jumped to his feet, gathering up the papers, dropping one whose lurid headline screamed “Love Among the Corpses? Sir-Shag-A-Lot Strikes Again in Local Morgue”. Mrs. Hudson clucked her tongue and picked it up, grinning to herself as Sherlock raced into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Served him right, to be exposed to the public eye like this, for keeping such a secret from the people who loved him! Not that she’d been entirely out of the loop, of course; it was an old building, and certain noises traveled quite well down the pipes and chimneys. “Oh, to be young again,” she murmured with a twinkle in her eye as she headed back down the stairs. “Hmm, I wonder what dear Louis is doing today?”


End file.
